Early in 1959 I had changed my mind about waiting until summer 1960 before getting married. I had decided that I wanted to get married before I started the final year that October. I proposed to Edna, when we were over on a visit to Little Hulton. On the Saturday evening we went out to a dance hall in Bolton that went by the exotic name of “Palais de Dance.” Well, sort of proposed! We were sitting in the upper gallery looking down on the floor. At that precise moment they were appropriately playing the Michael Holliday song “The Story of My Life.” Edna always complained later that it was never done properly, there was no formal “question popped,” she was simply told we would be getting married that autumn. No comment. It made sense to me; I was spending half my time travelling backwards and forwards to Worksop. I didn’t want to be doing that in my final year. Naturally when my parents were told they were worried about it and thought I should qualify before getting married. They didn’t have the problem of driving that scooter back to Sheffield in the early hours of the morning, I was adamant we should get married before fifth year; I was convinced it gave me the best hope of passing, and had no doubts that the marriage would work Luckily I was proved right on both counts. The wedding was provisionally arranged for August 3rd, Bank Holiday Monday, the main reason for the date was the shop would be closed allowing my Mother and Dad to come. Edna wasn’t entirely happy with that, it cut our honeymoon time down to only four days. Before all this could be finally settled I had to go through the formality of asking the permission of her father. Then, it was considered essential to obtain that approval, two weeks later we went down to the farm. We travelled on our faithful scooter, arriving late on a Friday evening. The next morning I got up and asked where her Dad was, he had already been up several hours and was milking the cows. I went round to the cowshed; he was crouched down on a small stool, tugging away. There was no machinery; it was all done by hand. He glanced up when I walked in and carried on. I rather nervously, opened the conversation. “ Um Er, would it be all right if I, er, got, um, married to Edna?” He paused for a fraction, glanced at me, grinned and said, “ Yes, of course” and immediately resumed milking. That was it, I went back into the farm, and the “ordeal” hadn’t lasted long.
On the 23rd March Edna was writing to say she had received a letter from the vicar of Priors Marston, Laurie Parsons confirming that the banns would be published there and that I would require them to be published at St Pauls Peel, Little Hulton. So we had definitely set the date by then.
At Easter a family gathering took place at Priors Marston. I drove down with my parents so that they could meet Edna’s parents. It makes me realise how selective memory is, I had completely forgotten about this and without the letters I would never have remembered. We went for four days, I don’t know where we stayed but Wilf and Mary enjoyed it all very much. Apparently before we set off back Annie had filled the boot of Dad’s car with eggs, he was a careful driver thankfully. Even Dad said how much he enjoyed meeting everybody and he usually didn’t say much. I wonder how Annie coped with all that? Edna had told me her mother had said she wouldn’t even be going to the wedding so I suppose Wilf and Mary were wondering what to expect? She must have made a big effort, Dad described her as, “Very nice and didn’t seem shy at all.”
In April whilst on holiday Edna was beavering away sorting things out for the big day, which was coming up fast, just under four months to go. She was arranging the catering with a lady in the village who offered the meals at around seven shillings and sixpence each. (37p) We were catering for around 50 guests. She was agreeing the hymns and went to Coventry with Ann Ludlam and June the bridesmaid’s looking for dresses. There was so much to do.
During late spring there was a lot more correspondence about wedding arrangements, I began at one point to wonder whether my parents were right after all, perhaps I should have waited until I had qualified. One big problem was solved when Mrs White, Edna’s landlady agreed that I could simply move in with Edna after we were married. I can’t remember if we paid additional rent, I assume we must have done. Other interesting letters from 1959, first from the 14th April, “I had to queue up for ages in the Union to get a polio injection, there were crowds there” that polio epidemic in the early 50’s was still causing concern. From the 27th May, “ I read in the paper of a girl here at the University who has hung herself. She went to the same Grammar School I did and was on finals. She was in digs in Crooksmoor road just round the corner, horrible.” The pressures on students could be enormous and the fact she was from Farnworth Grammar hit me hard. Finally from 1st June, “ I had three fillings at the dentist, it cost £1 Brr. My new speedo cable for the bike cost 9 shillings. The costs of life are mounting.”
Near the end of her first term as a teacher, “ Tomorrow draws nearer. Parents and Miss Barrett meet. I shall be very calm, superior and enlightening- what a hope!”
During the summer term in fourth year we had to make a big decision. What project were we going to do for our thesis? The final year was completely geared around a single design scheme considered in depth. For the previous four years we had all worked on the same schemes dictated by the course, now we would all be doing a different project that we selected. I discussed various options with my course tutor, but reaching agreement was proving difficult. I wanted to do a Central Fire Station for Manchester, but the Professor didn’t like that idea. Apparently somebody had done one similar the year before and he wanted something, “different and original.” I really cannot remember how I came up with this, but one day I suggested how about a new Reform Club for Manchester. The tutor’s eyes gleamed, “What a brilliant idea Bill,” and that was agreed. Oh dear me; what had I done. Gentlemen’s Clubs in London date back over two hundred and fifty years. The London Reform Club was founded during the period 1830 to 1832, by Liberal members of Parliament at the time the Reform Bill was being canvassed and passed. The equivalent in Manchester was founded in 1867 as a gentlemen’s club for liberal politicians and supporters. Many other clubs were founded, Atheneum, Travellers, United Services, Whites, Boodles, Brooks to name a few. They all have a unique history. The problem I now faced was how easy would it be to gain access and information on establishments that, by their very nature were a closed society? The answer to that was very difficult, I am sure the Chief Fire Officer of Manchester would have welcomed me with open arms. I wrote to several clubs, some did not even bother to reply some said very interesting, but no. In the end I managed to get an interview with two, the secretary’s of the London and Manchester Reform Clubs. The Manchester club wasn’t an attractive place, slightly down at heel I thought. The secretary was different, he was immaculately dressed with a long double-barrelled name and turned out to be a pompous twit. Seeing the type of accommodation was however useful. Later in Easter holidays Edna and I went down to Edenbridge, Kent to stay with Edith and Stan Nightingale for a couple of nights. The next day after arrival I took the train up to London to visit the Reform Club while Edna remained with Edith. The Secretary seemed anxious and made it very plain he didn’t want to waste too much time on me. He rushed me round the place, constantly looking at his watch. I had hoped to spend a morning there, but within an hour I was being shown the door. Again it was of some value to see the fittings and feel the atmosphere of the place. That was it for the research, all I had to do now was put a scheme together and get that degree.
A few random stories Edna wrote to me concerning school. “One of the student teachers was passing the Music room in between lessons. One boy was trying to get in but the other children inside were holding the door. Apparently the boy said, “Quick open the door, Here’s Miss Barrett and you know what she’s like.” Then according to the tale the door opened like wildfire and two scared faces peered round. Edna in her new role as a dragoness.” The next one shows she had admirers, “One bright spot in today’s happenings. Dunstan turned up at dinnertime with a bunch of bluebells for me, the poor lad was laughed at and later I discovered another boy sneaking some flowers into a pot during break.” For once at the end of March she was very upset with things, “I’m utterly fed up at school.” Her irritation was directed at the Headmaster Mr. Wade and some senior staff who seem to have made a mess of organising an evening of competitions at school for choral singing and poetry reading to be attended by parents. Things seemed to have gone wrong and unusually for her she wrote in an angry mood, “That is the last time I spend so much time on Ansell’s crazes. I feel all the children deserve an apology, poor kids. I hate the way they are treated like animals devoid of all feeling.” It was absolutely typical of her to show concern for the children. One day the Director of Education for Nottinghamshire, Edward Mason arrived for an inspection. I remember the man when I later worked at County Hall, “He asked could he see my record book and scheme of work? My record book was at home and I didn’t dare show him the scheme of work it was practically non-existent. Oh love I’ve never felt so wretched. The lesson before one of the kids piped up, “ Miss they say you’ve got love bites on your neck.” I wonder if Mason saw them!”
One day during 1959 John Whisson who was in our year was driving me back to Worksop. I can’t remember why he was taking me in his car but the memory of what we saw is still clear in my memory. It was a bright sunny day and we were driving along past Lindrick Golf Course. John was a quick driver and we were making good time. I was staring idly at the players walking along the course, when suddenly Johnny shouted.” What the bloody hell is that!” He was staring in his driving mirror and suddenly this tiny car shot past us and disappeared quickly into the distance. We probably felt, as though we had seen a flying saucer, in fact it was our first view of the Mini car. Designed by Alex Issigonis for the nationalized British Motor Corporation and made in Birmingham it had only just been released. It was a huge success and soon they were everywhere.
